


Home is where the heart is.

by Nightingale2013



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightingale2013/pseuds/Nightingale2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~Takes place right after the season 3 mid-season finale~<br/>I made a little change on the time since Derek has been away to 3 months. Just seems to fit better now</p><p> </p><p>It’s been almost 3 months since Derek left, almost 3 months since they stopped the chaos that was the darach. Almost 3 months since Scott became alpha and Derek a beta. Almost 3 months since they got their parents back. Almost 3 months since he finally let go of his feelings for Lydia. Lydia. Lydia Martin is... was the queen of his world. He can’t quite remember how it happened but he remembers when. The moments after she kissed him, the seconds after his panic attack had stopped. He thinks of all the things he should be doing and thinking about but this empty space that was once Lydia’s is no longer hers. In fact he’s not sure if it’s necessarily empty but just not hers anymore. He feels he should mourn this feeling, that he should be grief stricken but he’s surprisingly in one piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first baby in the whole Teen Wolf world so be kind to it hehehe.  
> The story is no where near ready but I'm posting this first draft to see if anyone has any interest in it.  
> Also, I have no idea how these tag things work on this site so yeah.....  
> Please, please, please comment and maybe even sign up to help me beta this. I could always use more betas.  
> I promise there will be action in the second chapter, I just wanted to do back story first and get it out of the way.  
> And now without further ado.........  
> also i don't own any of the characters and stuff that's all teen wolf awesomeness.

“You have exactly one week, Stiles, one week and no more.” Peter explained through a sly smile. He knew this wolf was definitely more bite than bark but that had never stopped Stiles before. 

“A week, huh? I would’ve pegged you more for an hours sort of guy. You know you should think more about this intimidation work cause so far I’m not buying it.” He retorted, all vibrato, kicking himself mentally. Sometimes he wondered if he really ever had a sense of self preservation. Then again, he guessed, running with werewolves and all kind of overrides that.

“Don’t tempt me Stiles, I’m feeling rather gracious today but I can easily take it back and turn you now if you’d like.” Peter quickly closes the gap between them, grasping his wrist too fast before Stiles can even think of stepping back. He runs his nose down his forearm, teeth resting at the soft part of his wrist. Stiles manages what sounds to be a whimper, heart kicking into gear. He wouldn’t turn him now would he? He gave him his word. Then again Peter’s word these days doesn’t necessarily mean much. Stiles takes a step back and yanks his arm from Peter’s grasp. This is too eerily familiar, they’ve dance this dance before.

“A week?” He manages to choke out.

“Seven days.” Peter nods in acknowledgement.

Stiles looks down at his hands, his human hands, thinking about how they would look with claws. He looks back up.

“What about Scott and…..” he gets out, choking on the last part of the sentence. Peter is already gone, probably jumped out the window the second he looked down. Derek has stalking and stealth down to a T, Peter has it down to an art form.

He slowly steps back, legs hitting the side of his bed and he gives way. He has exactly one week to figure this out, exactly one week to get his act together and figure a way out of this mess. A week to say goodbye to his fleshy, breakable, pale, human side. If he fails it’ll all be gone, Stiles won’t fail though, he won’t, not if it means he’ll stop being Stiles.  
He leans back, clothing still on, over the covers. He runs his hand through his face and blinks a few times at the ceiling.

“Fuck.” he whispers.

He gets up and turns the laptop on, plopping down on the chair with all the grace he can muster at the moment. Full research mode flipping on, ready to get cracking. “I will figure this out even if it kills me…..”

~*~

He wakes up to a face full of keyboard and the laptop completely dead. He must’ve passed out sometime in the early hours. He begins to stretch and looks around the room.

“Fucking Christ!” he manages to tumble off the chair and into the floor ready to let out a yell but it gets caught half way in his throat. For a moment there he thought it was Peter again, changing his mind on the allotted time. It’s Derek this time though, in all his brooding glory. He’s glaring at Stiles like he’s already managed to say something worth the annoyed expression, worth knitting together his brows like that. Any other day he would’ve made a snide remark about Derek’s eyebrows, His only mode of real communication but not today. Stiles backs up a little hitting the wall with his back, feeling a bit like a cornered animal. He wonders if Derek can smell Peter still, If he knows anything of his uncle’s threat.

“Good morning Stiles, how are you, how did you sleep? .... Oh fine thanks I’m doing dandy, yeah just peachy. How was your week getaway?” he blurts out trying to cut the tension with some babbling as usual. Derek seems to scowl more if that’s even possible.

“Stiles...” Derek lets out, more of a growl than anything.

“What?” Stiles lifts himself from the floor and manages to lean the wall behind him for support. “What did I do this time sourwolf?” he bites out mockingly.

Derek just growls a bit more and stands up from the bed. His leather jacket not on him for once but on his bed. This is serious business if he’s already taken his jacket off.

“Why does it reek of Peter in here?” he accuses, brows furrowing even more.

“I… what? Peter? Like your dear sweet yet completely depraved and creepy uncle Peter?” he’s babbling again, trying to think of a lie to spin. He doesn’t want to involve anyone in this mess if he can avoid it.

“What did he say to you Stiles?” he asks taking a step closer.  
Stiles laughs nervously and tries to fake nonchalance. He can feel his heart already freaking out and he swallows hard. Thanks heart for ratting me out, he thinks. He wonders if he has enough time to call Scott and tell him to get his ass over here before he’s mauled by Derek. He shoves his hands in his pocket and palms his cell. Derek’s eyes quickly dart to his hand then back to him. Stiles doesn’t think he’s fast enough. Not that Scott would pick up nowadays anyway.

“Stiles?” he growls this time with a hint of anger in there.

“You know I’m not one of your pups, the whole alpha command thing didn’t actually work on me then. Why would it work now, especially when you’re no longer an alpha. You should really rethink your tactics on interrogation.” He flails his arms at Derek and he wonders again were his sense of self-preservation went. Derek strides forward closing the gap between them and pinning him forcefully on the wall. He’s starting to think this whole ‘invasion of personal space’ dilemma isn’t just a Derek thing or a Peter thing but more of a Hale thing in general. Derek’s fingers are digging into his arms a little so he tries to shrug out of his vice grip. That only proves counterproductive, as now he’s pretty sure he’ll have bruises.

“Hey, hey, watch the merchandise, I don’t have super wolf healing abilities like some in this room.” Derek is a little too close for comfort but that’s never stopped him before.

“What did Peter say to you Stiles, tell me!”

“That’s definitely still a command and I could really use some caffeine or some Adderall or maybe both. I probably need both, I feel like I’m going into withdrawal.” Stiles feels completely jittery and utterly anxious.  
Derek looks straight into Stiles’ eyes. He’s still uncomfortably close, still uncomfortably breathing on him.

“Why did you even come back?” He manages to blurt out. Derek punches the wall to the right of his face. He flinches a little but holds his ground nonetheless. There’s rustling out in the hallway.

“Son, is everything ok? Leaving for my shift soon, do you need anything?” Sherriff Stilinski yells through the door. Saved by the bell or more like the sherriff.

“Uhh yeah actually, could you come in here real quick?” he asks his father. Before the doorknob is even done twisting Derek is gone. He’s still on the wall somehow but he manages to make it look normal and step toward the middle of the room. As his dad steps inside and looks at him, Stiles wonders if things with his father will ever be the same. Sherriff Stilinski looks around, half expecting to see Scott or some other wolf hanging around. He swears he heard talking.

“What is it Stiles?” and just like that Stiles goes in for a hug.

“Thanks for being you dad.” Some of the tension between them melts a little but his dad is still too riled up about the last few days.

“No problem kiddo, now I have to get to the station. Did you want me to pick up something for dinner later?” he steps back and Stiles is left wondering if he still hasn’t forgiven him for all the lies.

“I’m good with whatever… on second thought, only if it’s healthy. So that means no curly fries or burgers for you.” He points a finger accusingly at his father.

“Yeah, yeah.” His dad pats his shoulder and then looks at the nightstand. 

"When did you get coffee?”

Stiles looks at the cup of coffee and for a split second he’s ready to spin another lie but he promised his dad he wouldn’t, not anymore.

“I didn’t.” They both look at the cup.

“Maybe Scott got it for you? Though I’m going to have a talk with the kid about using the front door next time.” Sherriff Stilinski walks out and down the stairs before Stiles tears his eyes away from the cup. He hasn’t told his dad about the situation that he’s in with Scott.

“Bye dad!” he yells down the hall. He turns around and walks toward the nightstand. He picks up the cup of coffee and realizes it’s still hot. He takes a sip and basks in the wonderful taste and aroma. Just how he likes it, no cream, no sugar just plain black coffee. He notices something written on the side of the cup, ‘sry’ in sloppy handwriting. He doesn’t remember Derek ever apologizing. Ever.

He has no idea why Derek came back. As far as he remembers he up and left without any warning with his sister. Good riddance he had thought. Yet here he was again, pushing him around like a rag-doll as usual. This time though something was different. Something in the way he looked at Stiles made a shiver run down his back.

It’s been almost 3 months since Derek left, almost 3 months since they stopped the chaos that was the darach. Almost 3 months since Scott became alpha and Derek a beta. Almost 3 months since they got their parents back. Almost 3 months since he finally let go of his feelings for Lydia. Lydia. Lydia Martin is... was the queen of his world. He can’t quite remember how it happened but he remembers when. The moments after she kissed him, the seconds after his panic attack had stopped. He thinks of all the things he should be doing and thinking about but this empty space that was once Lydia’s is no longer hers. In fact he’s not sure if it’s necessarily empty but just not hers anymore. He feels he should mourn this feeling, that he should be grief stricken but he’s surprisingly in one piece.

~*~

Stiles decides that a hot shower will help, already walking towards the bathroom. He thumbs through his phone looking for pandora, the All Time Low station already in queue. He walks to the sink and looks up at his reflection in the mirror. Sometimes he can’t recognize the person staring back at him. Sometimes it’s too much reality that these days he tries not to look at his reflection much. He runs his fingers through his hair, pulling on it a little. He’s starting to really like the longer hair look, It suits me well. Stiles turns on the shower and lets the water run for a minute, taking the time to take off his clothes. The shirt already has a coffee stain reminding him where the coffee came from. He smirks a little, pulls the shower curtain open and steps into the steamy shower. He lets the hot water run down his back easing a little of the tension in his shoulders. He’s humming along to the music, forgetting the rest of the world for a bit. ‘Weightless’ is the song that plays next and Stiles is singing, bobbing his head to the beat a little in the shower. ‘Maybe it’s not my weekend but it’s gonna be my year’ those lyrics really ring with him and he’s leaning back on the wall letting the water wash down his face. He finishes up the shower, turning the water off, still humming ‘Weightless’. Stiles dries himself with his favorite towel, the batman towel that Scott got for him back when they were little and he frowns. He walks back to the bedroom and gets dressed, plopping down on the bed. His hand finds the leather jacket that Derek left on the bed this morning. He just lays down and closes his eyes, humming along to the music, absentmindedly letting his fingers play with the supple leather.  
There’s a knock on the window. He looks up and notices Scott, quickly hitting pause on pandora. He has no idea why Scott bothers knocking but then again they aren’t as close as they once were. This makes Stiles’ heart stop, this is something he knows he should be sad about. He motions for Scott to come in, not wanting to really look at his face. He looks down and notices he’s been holding Derek’s leather jacket this whole time. Not sure why or how but he knows it’s the last thing he wants to take discuss and analyze, last thing he wants Scott seeing. He quickly flings the jacket towards the hamper and regroups. This is going to be an interesting conversation.

“Hey.” Scott nods at him.

“Hi.” Wow Stiles at a loss for words, that’s a first. He thinks.  
He’s not really sure who will cave in first but he sure hopes it’s not him. Stiles wants Scott to figure this crap on his own for once.  
There’s a few minutes of awkward silence, tension permeating in the air. He finally looks up at Scott but he’s doing the werewolf sniffing thing. Stiles is tempted to say ‘what is it boy?’ but not sure if making dog jokes is really his best bet right now.

“Derek.” That’s all that he says.

Stiles winces, knows he’ll have to talk about it. “He came by this morning, wanted to ask about…” but Stiles stops himself, he was teetering close to spinning a lie. A lie aimed at his best friend to protect what? Derek? Peter? He should really reconsider who he hangs out with nowadays. He watches Scott prepare himself for the lie, he knows Scott’s facial expressions so well after so many years of being in a bromance that he’s not at all considering how he’ll take the actual truth, whether or not it’s followed by sass.

“He came by to ask about one thing in particular, which you know is very Derek like, one track mind and all. He wanted to know what his uncle was up to and bring me a cup of coffee. You know the usual sweet, caring Derek we all know and love. Then he left just like that.” And there it was again, his babbling, his inability to stop the word vomit. He wasn’t lying really, at all actually. This was the complete truth but the way he laid it out like it was an everyday event made it seem that much more suspicious. Scott’s eyes narrow for a few seconds but then he looks away.

“Ok.” He mumbles.

Wow that was completely anticlimactic. Seriously, what’s gotten into Scott recently? Aside from the obvious new and improved alphaness but still it’s like he doesn't do jokes anymore. Like life is too serious, too ‘life or death’ that a few jokes here and there are totally out of place in his world now. Stiles thought.

“Ok…” Stiles rubs his hand down his face but when he opens his eyes again Scott is gone.

“Fuck...” Even Scott is doing the whole creepy stealthy alpha thing now. Stiles sighs.

Thankfully the rest of the day goes by without as much as a peep from the supernatural world. Of course that only lasts for a few hours though. The moment the sun sets completely he feels someone behind him. He’s was sitting on his computer chair reading through the bestiary just in case something new popped up. He needed to be prepared, couldn’t let his guard down. Not this time.

He kept thinking back on the jacket that Derek had left in his room and couldn’t get his mind off of it. He got up stretching a bit and walked over to the hamper. He picked up the leather jacket and admired it. It was heavy and thick, good quality leather. Stiles could never pull of the whole leather bad boy look but that didn't stop him from wanted a jacket for himself one day. He went towards the full length mirror and slowly put it on. He was swimming in it, didn't quite fill it out like Derek of course considering his overly muscular body….not that Stiles had noticed or anything. It felt heavy and safe though, like nothing could hurt him in this jacket. He wondered if he’d be getting his complimentary leather jacket once he join the wolves. He wrapped it around himself a little tighter to see if it would look better, completely ignoring that the jacket smelled so much like… like safe…like pack...like home.

“That jacket would look stunning in a smaller size,” Peter’s voice whispered behind his ear. He was way too close for comfort way too close for anything. Stiles’ eyes snap open and he sees Peter in the reflection behind him.

“You really shouldn't leave your window open like that, who knows what kind of psychopath could be lurking around.” Peter whispers to his other ear, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You probably scared all the little psychopaths away anyway,” Stiles is biting the tips of his fingers, a nervous habit he has yet to stop. Peter is in his bedroom, calm and composed as if turning Stiles wasn’t a big deal at all. He pulls Derek’s jacket off and hangs it over the back of his computer chair.  
He’s been thinking of every single scenario that could possibly work but nothing seems to be right. For fuck’s sake he has 3 Word documents on his laptop detailing every possible outcome, none of them pleasant. One of them even weighing the pros and cons of actually becoming a werewolf. There’s this silence between them it’s only serving to put Stiles on edge even more. He’s never been good with silence not even at the best of times.

“Scott will totally flip. He would go after us, he would go after you, after your blood. He will know if something is wrong.” Stiles wrings his hands to stop himself from biting them again

“I’m offering you this again, Stiles, not because I want to take you way from Scott but because you’d be the single most useful person I could trust on.” Peter’s voice is all silk and control, deadly.

“What about Derek? What would he say if you turned me? What would he do?” he’s grasping at straws now and he knows it.

“You think you could run to Derek and convince him to turn you instead? You’d rather be in his pack? He’s no longer an alpha, Stiles, he can’t protect you, not like I can.” Peter paced slowly, calculating every single step. It was this, Peter’s sheer determination and calculative personality that scared the living bejeezus out of him.

“You tried once already and I’m pretty sure I remember declining your lovely offer, plus it’s not like Derek would turn me anyway.”  
Peter turned swiftly and planted a terrifying glare on Stiles. It’s all he could do to control the thrumming of his heart, hands going clammy. He slowly walks towards Stiles like the wolf is ready to pounce.

“There’s a difference with what Derek and I want from you Stiles. I won’t make the same mistake as my nephew and overlook how much of an asset you would be to me as my beta, my second in command,” there’s this glint in his eyes, no games this time and Stiles knows it.

Peter closes his eyes and steadies himself. “There’s something coming, something far worse than we've seen and I want to make sure I have the best at my disposal.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Silence you little brat,” the woman runs the tip of the dagger down his cheek once more, this time even deeper. All Stiles can think of is how he doesn’t want to die here not now, not a virgin. Not without seeing Scott, his best bro even if they don’t really talk or see much of each other anymore. Lydia and all her beauty, all her tenacity and her sharp brain and wit. Allison and her kindness and understanding coupled with her bat shit crazy side. Isaac, Erica and Boyed and even Jackson. Then there’s Derek. Derek. Derek…..fuck DEREK!  
> “DDDDDDDDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!” Stiles cries out before his vision goes white and passes out from the unbearable pain.  
> Somewhere in the woods a howl can be heard clear above all other noises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to get this chapter up just so everyone had something else to read. totally not proofread or beta'd so bear with me. I could really use a beta (hint hint wink wink)
> 
> I will definitely be rewriting and adding more to this but some later time. 
> 
> like always teen wolf isn't mine.

*buzzzz*

He turns to the side, face buried in the pillow, arm dropping down the side of the bed, fingertips almost touching the floor. He manages to pry his left eye open and search his nightstand for the phone. Barely being able to lift his left arm over the edge he fumbles for the phone almost dropping it. Stiles finally grasps it and brings it towards his face checking the time. Screen way too bright for his eyes he squints a few seconds to see the time….. 4:35 a.m.

Stiles groans and swipes at the screen. 12 text messages and a call. 10 of those from Scott, the rest from Derek. Before he can check who the call was from another one goes through. ‘SOURWOLF’ flashing on the screen accompanied by a hilarious picture of Peg-Leg Pete, Stiles chuckles a little to himself before he realizes it’s actually Derek calling. He swipes the green icon and answers.

“This better be good Derek, it’s 4 in the morning and I have a rather important dream to get back to.”

“I know what Peter is planning, why didn’t you tell me, why didn’t you tell Scott or anyone else in the pack!?” he barks out.

“Wow, a full sentence from Derek Hale, not sure if I can handle that this early in the morning” his voice barely a grumble, he rolls over in bed.

“I’m not playing here Stiles. Are you stupid or something?” Derek definitely sounds agitated.

“Or something….” he mumbles from the pillow.

“STILES!” Derek growls through the phone.

“What, what I’m here, I didn’t fall asleep…yet,” he complains, slightly startled. Stiles is way too tired to be dishing sarcasm right now.

“Open your window.”

Stiles barely registers the dropped call before he sees a shadow behind the window.  
Not this, not right now, he thinks. He manages to slump out and unlatch the window before throwing himself at the bed again. Face burrowing into the pillow wishing sleep to take him again.

Derek is in the room, he can feel it, moving the computer chair closer. He spins it around and sits, chest leaning on the backrest. He looks down at his jacket and runs his nose along the collar.

“You.”

“Me,” mumbles Stiles half asleep already.

“Tried on my jacket on.”

“What!? No, what? No I didn’t,” Stiles sits up quickly, all thoughts of sleep and rest gone in a  
second.

“You did, I can smell you on it” Derek scowls at him.

“That’s… that’s probably cause it’s been on my chair and… and you were the one that left it here anyway. What’s up with that? This isn’t like a lost and found for werewolves you know,” he looks up at Derek’s face. He looks sickly pale, a bit of sweat running down his temple. Stiles can feel his stomach drop.

“What happened to you?” Stiles asks warily.

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t nothing me, Derek. Last time you looked like that I almost had to cut your arm off and trust me that’s still not a pleasant memory even though there was no cutting of limbs involved,” Stiles moves around and notices a gash running down his right side. He hadn’t noticed it before but he guesses Derek had used the chair’s backrest to cover it up. His hand gestures towards the obviously still bleeding gash down Derek’s side.

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t involve you.”

“Then why did you even come here? Fuck, Derek let me just take a look at it. I have this whole new first-aid kit I’ve been itching to try out anyway. Deaton gave me a few new ingredients to try for the supernatural,” his smile all mischievous, he moves to the bathroom and quickly gets the kit.

“Why aren’t you healing?” he questions Derek while kneeling next to him, kit in hand.

“I am just, slowly.”

“How slow?” Stiles presses on with the questions since Derek is starting to look like he’ll pass out any second now.

“Slow.” He manages a scowl at Stiles followed by a wince.

“Alright buddy, to the bed, I can’t have you bleeding and passing out on my chair and all,” Stiles gets his arm under Derek’s good side and hoists him towards the edge of the bed. Plopping both of them down ungracefully and quickly tending to Derek’s wounds. He watches the werewolf’s face for any signs of pain or discomfort while he cleans and sterilizes the gash, pausing to pull out a small shard of metal. Stiles drops the metal piece on the computer desk for later inspection and quickly goes back to the task at hand.

“You know, you shouldn’t go out and try to Mr. Superhero anymore, at least not on your own,” Stiles shakes his head finally wrapping gauze over the wound. He helps Derek out of the bloody shirt, pausing only to throw it in the hamper. Good thing I’m the only one that does laundry in this house, he thinks.

“Didn’t you learn from the last, oh I don’t know, five thousand times?” 

“I can handle things on my own.”

“God! You are so stubborn! Clearly no one gave you the memo but you don’t have to dude, you still have the rest of us.” Stiles is shaking his head in disbelief.

“I left remember?” his arm gesturing to the window.

“So? Doesn’t mean you aren’t part of the pack anymore,” Stiles stutters out dumbfounded

“What pack?” Derek’s scowl is back in place.

“Dude, Derek, I know you and my boy Scott aren’t the best of friends but he wants you in the pack, we want you in the pack.”

“Who says I want to be part of your pack,” spits out Derek.

“Oh for fucks sake, drop the lonely tough boy act, we all know you miss us, most of all me of course but…” jokes Stiles. Derek looks away at that and interrupts.

“You don’t want me in the pack.”

“That’s not true and you know it. Yeah sure, you were a major douche bag for a while there and I’m pretty sure us thinking you were a murderer didn’t help but you’ve graduated to just sourwolf now.” Stiles reaches over to pat the wolf’s shoulder trying to placate him. His hand maybe lingering a bit longer than he intended. He quickly pulls back and sits on the computer chair.

“Take a rest, you look like you need it. I’ll start researching and see if the bestiary has anything of use,” he proclaims, hands waving and letting out a nervous laugh.

“Is there anything you can tell me before you doze off?” asks Stiles.

They manage to get some good leads about rituals and ‘squiggly’ daggers when Stiles orders Derek back to bed, telling him to sleep. Derek is stubborn as ever, choosing to stay sitting up at the edge of the bed, his eyes half lidded already. Stiles leans back on his computer chair, stretches a little and brings his nimble fingers down on the keyboard.  
A few hours pass of intense research and Stiles is sure he hasn’t gotten anywhere useful. There are sticky notes and notebooks littered everywhere, the printer currently running a few articles he thought could be useful. He’s surprised how the werewolf has managed to sleep through the ruckus. He takes a second to peek at Derek, who’s ever so slowly landed on the bed, face to the pillow and completely passed out. Stiles turns the chair to look at the sleeping figure on his bed. He doesn’t remember ever seeing that face on Derek, he looks relaxed, peaceful even. A small smile plays on the corner of Stiles’ lips as Derek mumbles something in his sleep. He goes back to a particular article he had found interesting to do some more thorough research. Stiles composes a rather long email detailing the majority of his findings and send it to Lydia. Maybe she’ll be able to make sense of this.  
Stiles doesn’t want to bother Derek, not when he looks like he could use the rest so he settles himself deeper into the chair.  
~*~  
*buzzzz*

Ugh, not this again. Thinks stiles.

He fumbles for the phone, hand knocking a few things over. Stiles’ brain finally kicks into gear and he sits up abruptly in bed, Derek’s jacket sliding down to his lap. He doesn’t remember getting into bed and one look down shows he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes, albeit way more rumpled. He looks around the room searching for said Derek Hale but the man is nowhere to be found. Stiles finally notices the vibration coming from his left pocket and pull out the ringing cellphone. He swipes the screen to find a few text messages from Lydia and one voice mail.

‘Even though your email was rather lackluster in the useful information’s department, I’ve come to a few conclusion…. that being said none of them bode well in any instance. Call me back ASAP. Oh and I better be getting morning coffee for this.’ The voicemail cuts out.  
Stiles decides to take a quick shower, sending a text message to Lydia, ‘I’ll be there in 20, meet me outside, I’ll pick you up with coffee.’

When he steps out of the shower he picks up his phone and reads an ‘OK’ response from Lydia. He makes sure to pick up all the papers he got together last night, organizing the notebooks and putting his laptop in a backpack. He looks outside and decides on a jacket, it looked like a cold day out. He speeds off to the local coffee shop ordering her usual, smiling at how he knows it by memory. In a few minutes he is slowing down and turning into Lydia’s driveway, seeing her by the door. She looks stunning like usual but his heart no longer feels the same ache, the same want, his stomach no longer doing flips. He smiles at her as she gets into the jeep, handing her the still hot coffee.

“Good morning,” he flashes her a smile.

“Why do I feel like this will get both of us in a heap of trouble?” Lydia smirks over her coffee cup.

“Probably because it will.” Stiles looks at her, smiling, and drives.

“Mind if we go to the library?”

“Not at all.”

“Nice jacket by the way, looks a lot like the one Derek wears,” hums Lydia. His grip on the steering wheel tightens considerably. Stiles is sure she knows this is Derek’s jacket but there’s no way she’d call him out on it, not here and certainly not now. 

“What? Oh, this thing, nah I’ve had it for a few years now just never wore it. Dad gave it to me for my birthday…” 

“Leather is a good look on you,” she mumbles, nodding through the sip of coffee. Stiles’ knuckles turn white and he decides that the radio might be a better alternative to talking to Lydia right now. Why am I even wearing this right now.

~2 hours later~

“Witches,” Lydia mumbles.

“What?” he looks at her.

“I keep stumbling on the words witches and coven. I’ve look at this in quite a few different ways and it all points to them. Plus you said Derek’s wound didn’t heal quickly like usual right?”

Stiles nods.

“Magic, a ritual dagger to be exact.”

“Hence the ‘squiggly’ dagger Derek pointed out. Can we find them?”  
Lydia narrows her eyes suspiciously at Stiles but he doesn’t back down. 

“I have a pretty good idea they are in the woods of the preserve but that’s all I have for now.”  
Stiles closes up his notebook and laptop, shoving all of it quickly into the backpack.

“I’m dropping you off home and getting Scott.” The lie tumbling out before he registers it. He knows he won’t be getting Scott whatsoever.

“Fine, I didn’t want to get these babies ruined anyway,” Lydia points to her stilettos making Stiles roll his eyes.

The moment he drops Lydia off he races back home to gather some supplies, especially the mountain ash he has stashes away for emergencies.  
He parks the jeep at the edge of the woods hidden behind a few bushes off from the beaten path.

Stiles makes sure he has everything he needs, including a bottle of Lydia’s famous Molotov cocktail in one hand and mountain ash in the other. He runs into the woods knowing full well what could happen but he really isn’t worrying about that right. Stiles pours himself full on to the task at hand; checking off every single inch of the area. After 3 hours or so he pulls a map of the woods, checking off the grids he’s already scouted. Stiles decides that a small break might help him clear his head for a bit and a snack won’t hurt either. He begins to sit down pausing midway to stare at a rather peculiar section of the woods in front of him. It appears the trees have shaped themselves into a make-shift room, branches twisting here and there to form the walls and leaves covering the top like a roof. Stiles walks closer to the structure making sure he doesn’t cause too much noise. A shape of a woman sitting on cut down tree stump can be seen inside. The woman’s eyes snap up and he freezes, Stiles knows he has to act quickly, while he still has the element of surprise. He throws the explosive bottle at her face but before it even makes contact it explodes sending small sparks everywhere.

“You’ll regret that,” she mumbles in his ear from behind.

“…..What the!?” Stiles attempts to move away but she has her gnarled, bony fingers on his shoulder.  
He can feel all his nerve endings going haywire for a few seconds and then completely stopping. He realizes he’s been paralyzed right before his body topples over face first into some mud.

~*~ 

~slap~

Stiles grunts from the stinging pain on his cheek, barely coming to. His eyes only half opening but he seeing a wild looking woman. All dirt, twigs and leaves haphazardly sticking out of her hair. A rather large dagger can be seen in her gnarled fingers. He attempts to move his arm but can feel the scrape of something rope like around his wrists. On further inspection he sees that they are vines, almost bark like ropes, slowly creeping and winding around him as if alive.

“That was a nice attempt with the mountain ash there boy. Didn’t know non witches used that nowadays,” she snarled.

“Now let’s see if I can’t get you to run that pretty mouth of yours about the wolves and banshee in this area hmmm?”

She fiddles with the edge of the dagger, drawing shapes in the air and stepping closer to Stiles. The witch holds the tip of the dagger up to his face, eyes more intense than before. The dagger’s sharp point leaving a thin red line down his cheek and chest.

“You’ll have to do better than that to get me to spill the beans,” he mumbles.  
The woman cracks a small smile, looking even wilder than before.

“Just give it a few seconds boy and you’ll be wishing it was just a regular cut.”  
Stiles can feel something, something humming and pulsating in and around the cut. It starts out slow but quickly grows in intensity. It’s quickly becoming almost unbearable and Stiles is starting to panic.

“AHHHH!!!” tears are streaming down Stiles’ face leaving paths were the mud has caked dried on his cheeks.

“Silence you little brat,” the woman runs the tip of the dagger down his cheek once more, this time even deeper. All Stiles can think of is how he doesn’t want to die here not now, not a virgin. Not without seeing Scott, his best bro even if they don’t really talk or see much of each other anymore. Lydia and all her beauty, all her tenacity and her sharp brain and wit. Allison and her kindness and understanding coupled with her bat shit crazy side. Isaac, Erica and Boyed and even Jackson. Then there’s Derek. Derek. Derek…..fuck DEREK!

“DDDDDDDDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!” Stiles cries out before his vision goes white and passes out from the unbearable pain.

Somewhere in the woods a wolf's howl can be heard clear above all other noises.


End file.
